Ice Cold Obsession

02

Mia

By the time my shift ended my feet were throbbing, my back aches, and I smell like burnt coffee.

Perfect.

Just another wonderful day in my miserable existence.

I untie my apron and toss it into my locker, wincing when I bend to pull off my shoes. The café has finally emptied, leaving behind the faint smell of espresso, cinnamon and cleaning products. My manager let me leave fifteen minutes early after noticing how pale I looked.

I told her I was fine.

Apparently, I say that so often people have started treating it like a personality trait.

I pull my work shirt over my head and replace it with a faded black hoodie. My reflection in the small locker mirror looks like something dragged out of a grave.

Dark circles shadow my eyes, my lips are chapped, and the bruise on my cheek has turned an ugly shade of purple, even though I had tried to cover it with make up, it didn’t work.

I stare at myself for a moment.

“Beautiful,” I mutter.

“Girl, you look like absolute shit.”

jump.

Jade stands in the doorway holding two takeaway cups and wearing the smug expression of someone who enjoys catching me off guard.

“Ever heard of knocking?” I ask.

“Ever heard of sleeping?”

She walks in and kicks the door shut behind her.

Jade has been the only friend since I lost mum, I opened up to her more than I did with anyone. She has a sharp tongue, a bigger heart and absolutely no respect for personal space.

Her eyes settle on my cheek. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Right and I’m secretly a millionaire.”

“Congratulations.” I say shrugging

“Mia.” She whines in annoyance

I sigh and shove my uniform into my bag.

“ I thought we agreed you were going to take a break from fighting?” She complains sending a glare.

“Well you thought wrong” I corrected nonchalantly.

Jade stares at me as if she’s trying to decide whether to shake me or hug me. Knowing her, she might do both.

“You cannot keep doing this to yourself,” she says. “You’re working double shifts, barely sleeping, and throwing yourself into fights for money. You’re going to kill yourself before you even get a chance to live.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Barely.”

I reach for my bag, but she holds something up between two fingers.

My phone.

I blink. “Where did you get that?”

“You left it at the counter, genius.”

She tosses it toward me. I catch it just before it hits the floor. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome and before you ask no, I didn’t read your messages.”

I give her a suspicious look. “Okay, I glanced at the screen.”

“Jade.”

“What? It kept lighting up!”

I unlock the phone.

Seven missed calls all from Aunt Esmeralda.

My stomach tightens.

“Please tell me you didn’t answer any of them.”

“Nope.” Jade leans against the locker beside me. “But is this still about that scholarship?”

I lock the screen. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Jade.”

“No seriously Mia. What exactly are you waiting for? A handwritten invitation from the universe?” She says in frustration.

I shove my phone into my pocket and zip my bag.

She follows me when I move toward the door.

“Your aunt is offering you a way out. A real way out. You could go to school somewhere decent, live in a house where nobody throws bottles at your head and maybe get more than four hours of sleep.”

I stop walking.

Her words hit too close to the truth.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you that you deserve better?”

“Yes because you and I both know I don’t” I say in deadly convincing tone.

She looks genuinely stunned. I hate the expression on her face. I hate that she cares enough to look hurt when I push her away.

“You deserve a life Mia,” she says more quietly. “Not just a way to get through the next twenty-four hours.”

I look down at my hands. My knuckles are still bruised from last night’s fight.

A better life? The words sound almost laughable.

People like Jade can imagine futures because they’ve never had to bargain with the past just to make it through the present.

She doesn’t understand that leaving isn’t as simple as packing a bag. There’s my father, the bills, the guilt, and the part of me that still feels responsible for everything that went wrong.

And then there’s the scholarship itself accepting it would mean admitting I want something more but I didn’t want to be selfish.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” I snap with my voice coming out sharper than I intend.

Jade goes silent for a moment before she exhales and rubs a hand over her face. “Fine. Don’t talk about it but just promise me you’ll think about going.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder. “I have to get home.”

“Mia—”

“Goodnight, Jade.”

I walk away before she can say anything else. As I walk away she mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

I pretend not to hear.

The walk home feels longer than usual.

Hopefully my father would be out by this time. He’s probably at his usual bar, drinking away whatever money he hasn’t gambled off. If luck is on his side, he might stay there until midnight.

If it isn’t he comes home angry and use me as his punching bag.

I unlock the apartment door and slip inside the quietness making me exhale a slow breath.

Good.

I drop my bag beside the kitchen counter and open the refrigerator. There’s half a carton of milk, some leftovers and a bottle of water. I grab the water and take a long drink.

Then I hear a key scrape against the front door making my body goe rigid.

The door opens.

Footsteps cross the living room.

I set the bottle down as quietly as I can and move behind the kitchen wall, pressing myself into the narrow space beside the pantry. I know how ridiculous it is to hide in my own home, but fear doesn’t care about dignity.

My father enters the living room talking on his phone. “No s**t! I’m telling you, I’ll handle it.”

His voice is rough, irritated.

I hold my breath

“I said I’ll handle it. Just give me a little more time.”

A pause.

Then he laughs the same laugh that makes my skin crawl.

“You think I don’t know what happens if I don’t pay? You think I haven’t figured that out?”

I grip the edge of the counter.

Pay what?

Another pause.

His voice drops, and I have to strain to hear him. “She’ll do what she’s told.”

My heart begins to pound.

Who is he talking about?

I know the answer before he says my name.

“Mia’s my daughter. I can make decisions for her.” He snaps in irritation.

The room seems to tilt as I press my hand over my mouth.

No.

No, no, no.

“She’s young,” he continues. “And a virgin too. You said the debt would be settled once I handed her over.”

The words don’t make sense.

My father shifts somewhere beyond the wall. I hear the creak of the couch beneath his weight.

“I don’t care what you do with her after that. That’s your problem. I just want this debt gone and the rest of my money.”

My stomach twists so violently I think I’m going to be sick.

Handed her over?

The debt?

Me?

He f*****g sold me?

The realization lands with such force that for a second I forget how to breathe. My fingers fly to my mouth, trapping the gasp that threatens to escape.

I stare at the floor but I don’t really see it.

My father is talking about me as if I’m an old television he can trade for cash. As if I’m not even a person.

“I’ll bring her by tomorrow night,” he says. “Just make sure you keep your end of the deal.”

I don’t hear what he says next but footsteps of him retiring to his room with my heart hammering against my ribs each beat painfully loud in my ears.

I remain hidden long after the apartment falls silent, waiting for the sound of his footsteps to return.

They don’t.

Eventually, I sink onto the kitchen floor with my hands shaking so badly I have to clasp them between my knees.

Scholarship!

It was my only way out.